


Draco Malfoy is a Pretentious and Bloody Annoying Twat

by geeniusbar



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:40:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25837414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geeniusbar/pseuds/geeniusbar
Summary: Daphne Greengrass does not like Draco Malfoy.Not one little, teeny, tiny bit.But her dying sister loves the blond twat.
Relationships: Astoria Greengrass & Daphne Greengrass, Astoria Greengrass/Draco Malfoy, Daphne Greengrass & Draco Malfoy
Kudos: 29





	Draco Malfoy is a Pretentious and Bloody Annoying Twat

**Author's Note:**

> this is me being bored and deciding to publish the drabble

Daphne Greengrass does not like Draco Malfoy.

Not one little, teeny, tiny bit. 

He was pretentious, a twat and downright bloody annoying. And the fact that he took away the precious little time Daphne had left with her dying sister merely added to her dislike.

But she couldn’t help but feel warmth in her chest when Draco walked into her dying sister’s room and sat very comfortably behind her. Or when he was already there by the time Daphne had finished work, and he and Astoria were watching that stupid muggle British Baking show. Or when they sat together, paying no attention to the other, but Daphne could tell her sister was calm.

And so happy.

But she hated the ex-Death Eater twat all the same.

Even though hate was a rather strong word to use. 

***

But Astoria Greengrass loved Draco Malfoy. 

She loved him, despite him being pretentious and a bit of a twat.

She loved his gentle nature, and how exhausted the potion-maker turned healer was when he climbed into bed behind her. And how he would happily pull her on to him for her to rest, but he’d be the first one to fall asleep, with his head on her shoulder. Or how he’d squeeze her hands (or shoulders, depending on the day) when the healers brought bad news. And how he’d let the thick stone wall around his feelings down around her, despite apologising profusely after. 

She loved that he’d mutter to her in French, even though she couldn’t speak a lick of the language despite the basic hello and how are you. She loved that when he was stressed he would put his head on her lap, and read a book. Or that he’d pull her onto his lap, hold her waist and breathe until he calmed down.

She loved that he knew one day it would end, but didn’t spend the hours together in sadness, and instead spent it laughing with her, and convincing her to do things that any good healer would strongly advise against. 


End file.
